


Blue Electric Tropical Freeze

by BigBoyParty



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Condoms, Consensual Sex, Drunk Sex, First Meetings, Kissing, M/M, Marijuana, Oral Sex, Partying, Smoking, obnoxious Ally chan, underground rapper 3racha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27044311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBoyParty/pseuds/BigBoyParty
Summary: “It’s Tropical Freeze.” Jisung tossed the words out like they were nothing. Minho jutted his neck out, blinked, and furrowed his brow.“Tropical What?”“Tropical Freeze? Here.” Jisung fished in the bag again and pulled out a little plastic pack with the flavor Tropical Freeze (whatever that meant) broadcasted in bright yellow letters against a glaring cerulean background. Minho had never imagined someone buying such a flavor, but then again, here was Jisung: with blue hair matted to his forehead, and one crooked tooth poking against his lips, Jisung was the perfect customer for Tropical Freeze cigarillos.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 11
Kudos: 145
Collections: MINSUNG SEASON: Colourful Autumn 2020





	Blue Electric Tropical Freeze

Minho knew it the minute he saw him. Dangly earrings, tight black jeans, and that crisp black tank top that showed off his slender arms. Thank god, there was another gay person at this party.

Okay, truthfully, there could have been several other gay people at the party. There were certainly a few lesbians in the mix, which Minho felt a little comforted by, and some of the men pounding ugly green Everclear drinks must have been at least a little bisexual, right? But there was still that uneasy sense one gets when they’re the only twink in a room of drunken masculine energy. The blue-haired boy across the room was like a godsend, currently using the communal plastic cup to scoop jungle juice into a cup of his own. He was definitely a little drunk, staring blankly at the jungle juice for what must have been minutes, which was good because Minho was pretty drunk too. 

The guy glanced around the room for a moment and met Minho’s eyes. He smiled, and they both looked each other up and down before exchanging a nod, like soldiers passing on duty.

Jisung had noticed Minho, too, with the same amount of relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t like playing shows like this, he loved house shows, and Chan and Changbin had both promised that the guys hosting this one were cool. Maybe they were, they had offered the group free drinks and a couple dabs, but Jisung still felt annoyed at not having anyone to show off for. That’s why he was so glad to see Minho looking him over. It didn’t hurt that the other guy was so cute, dressed in all black with dark hair and this anxious look on his face, looking like he was about to drop dead any instant. Jisung made his approach,

“Hey.” He tried sitting on the couch next to Minho, spilling his drink a little and cursing under his breath in the process, “I saw you looking. I’m Jisung.”

“Oh. Hi. Minho.” Minho wasn’t sure if he should shake Jisung’s hand or what. He was definitely not drunk enough for this situation. He took another modest sip.

“What brings you to the party?”

“I, uh. Well, my friend invited me but I just texted her and apparently she’s not even coming, so. I don't know. I might leave.”

“No!” Jisung clamped his mouth shut. God, he sounded desperate. Okay, try again, “Don't go, man. A couple of friends and I were gonna go smoke outside. You should join us.”

“Okay.” Perfect. Jisung took the man’s hand in his own and led the way.

Minho had to admit, it was nice to get some fresh air. They had to push their way through a crowd of people on the steps before Jisung announced that they had reached his friends: two guys, one with big hands and hopelessly damaged blonde hair, the other wearing a baseball cap, with thick arms Minho had the sudden urge to reach out and squeeze. They were sitting on the curb in front of the row home where the party was happening, chatting quietly. The blonde one was the first to turn around. God, he was drunk. A massive grin instantly spread across his face, and he beckoned the two boys to come sit.

“You’re just in time! Changbin is rolling it now.” Sure enough, the guy to his right was carefully sealing up a blunt, turning slowly to face the group. So this was Changbin. He was pretty cute, Minho thought, watching him silently lift the end of the blunt to a lighter and catch it ablaze. He blew out the flame and brought the blunt up to his lips. While all of this was going on, Minho couldn’t shake the feeling of Chan’s eyes on him. He wasn’t creepy, necessarily, he just had this big dumb smile on his face and would not put his eyes anywhere else. 

“This is Minho,” Jisung said, finally drawing Chan’s eyes away, “he’s going to join us if that’s alright.”

“Sure,” Changbin mumbled.

“Absolutely!” Chan seemed way too excited about this. He leaned over to Jisung, still speaking loud enough for all of them to hear, “See Jisung, I told you these guys were cool. All types of people go to these parties. It’s no big deal.” Changbin smacked Chan’s thigh, but this man would not stop talking. “What? I’m not saying anything bad, am I? I just mean, well... You know.” He looked from Jisung to Minho and back again, and Minho couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“I know what you mean,” Minho said, “it’s alright.”

“YEAH! That’s what I’m talking about! See, this guy’s cool!” Chan erupted, raising his hand up and giving Minho one of the most aggressive high fives he had ever received in his life. 

“Alright, congratulations. You win ally of the year. Now smoke,” Changbin said. Chan just laughed, accepting the blunt and taking several short, intense pulls before passing it along to Jisung.

Minho thought that Jisung looked amazing when he smoked. And he wasn’t someone who usually said that kinda thing. He smoked sometimes at parties or whatever, but it wasn’t sexy, it was purely a means to an end. But when Jisung did it, it was sexy. Those eyes glancing up at Minho for a moment while he inhaled, like he had been caught in the act. The way he let the smoke billow from his mouth, smiling at the end of a breath. He looked divine. When he went to relight it (“Shit. It’s canoeing.”), the orange flame highlighted the most attractive planes of his face and reflected in his eyes. While Chan had smoked with an urgency, Jisung had absolutely none at all. He smoked like he had forgotten what he was even doing, tapping the ash off, passing it from one hand to the other and taking slow, sustained breaths on it.

And then Jisung was passing him the blunt. Minho shook himself from his thoughts and tried not to freeze up when their fingertips briefly touched. “Thanks,” he murmured and took a hit. It was clumsy, but effective. The air rushed from his lungs with a little cough to punctuate it at the end. He took a few more hits, passed it to Changbin and proceeded to feel immediately higher than he had been in a long time.

It was actually a really beautiful night outside. Minho watched a car drive past, someone well-dressed and drunk laughing and crossing the street last minute, forcing the car to slam on its brakes. The party-goer laughed and flipped the driver off, a friend following behind them once the vehicle passed and walking in the direction of the nearest bus stop.

  
“You alright?” Changbin asked, and Minho shook himself.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Was I doing something?”

“Nah, just staring.” Minho felt a weight fall suddenly into his lap. He looked down and immediately locked eyes with Jisung, who had thrown himself onto his back, resting his head on Minho’s thighs.

“This is fine right?” Jisung asked with a smile.

“Yeah. Of course.” Slowly, Minho ran his fingers over Jisung’s hair. It was thick, and surprisingly soft.

“Bro!” a sudden eruption from the other side of the circle, “Roll over!” Chan laughed and tried to get Changbin to high five him, with little luck, “Come on, it was funny. His head was in his lap! It was funny man, admit it.” Changbin didn’t find it funny, but he thought Chan was sweet, so he let it slide.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Jisung paused and momentarily reached for Minho’s hand, holding it between two of his own. “You have to see the performances. I hear the next one’s gonna be really good.” Usually, this kind of thing would seem clingy to Minho. He was a pretty flighty one, telling his past lovers not to ‘get too attached’ if they expressed a little too much affection. But from Jisung, it was cute.

“Maybe.” Minho was really just dragging it out to see how Jisung would react, and part of him thought Jisung could tell. The other man frowned and squeezed his hand tighter,

“Please? I’ll smoke you out.”

“You already are smoking him out,” Changbin chimed in, passing the blunt to Chan.

“Well, I’ll smoke you out again. Later. With my own weed.” 

Minho smiled. “Mmm. I’ll think about it.”

He stayed with the three of them and chatted until Changbin stood up. Changbin shoved the roach in some stoner device Minho had no reason to recognize, then ushered Jisung and Chan inside. “We have to go in now,” Jisung screeched out in a pathetic little whine, holding onto Minho’s hand until he was out of reach, then letting their fingers slide apart, “I want to see you in there, though.” 

Minho laughed gently. “Alright, alright. I’ll be in there, don't worry.”

“You better be.”

“I will!”

Jisung did some sort of ‘I’m watching you’ gesture before disappearing inside.

Then Minho was alone. He straightened up, brushing dirt off the back of his pants (God, he hoped it wasn’t visible. These pants were brand new.) He milled around inside, getting himself another drink, mostly checking his phone, then feeling guilty for being on his phone at a party and tucking it away again, before going downstairs where the performers were about to go on.

The scene in the basement was pleasant. Drunk girls shouting and grinding on each other, drunk guys mostly just swaying gently with a drink in hand, and everyone generally bumping up against each other with the rhythm. The music was loud, lights were low and colorful, and people were in a good mood. Minho looked around, but he didn’t see Jisung or his friends anywhere. He slid into the crowd, sipped his drink, and watched as the party’s host got up to the mic.

“How is everyone feeling?” Cheers. Minho clapped as much as he could with his drink in one hand. “Is everyone fucked up?” More cheers and clapping. “Good, good, good. We got our next performers coming up now, and you better give them a hand because we had to buy an extra mic for them. Make some noise for 3racha!”

Minho watched, wide-eyed, as that pretty twink from earlier stepped out onstage. Well, out on the carpet that marked a stage-like area as distinct from the audience. He was glistening under the lights, swaying a little and hyping up whatever his two friends said. He wasn’t dressed any different than he had been before, and he didn’t even say much at first, but Minho was absolutely enamored with him. He stared, slack-jawed, as Jisung shot him a wink and began rapping for their first song.

Performances always went by in a blur. That was one of Jisung’s favorite things about them. Usually, he was nervous and quiet and felt like nobody really knew him, but onstage he could be whoever he wanted to be, and he never remembered a thing. Tonight, he had a particular focus driving him forward. That Minho, standing a few rows back and shining in the multicolored light. Minho looked gorgeous with his eyes open wide and mouth open even wider, gaze noticeably flickering from Jisung’s face to his body and back again. 

Jisung was happy to be looked at. He twisted and spat through the haze, Changbin’s low growl undercutting the high strains of his own rap. He hopped up and down violently, headbanged in time with the beat, and threw himself into a mosh pit in the center of the audience. He stumbled back on time just in time for his next verse, roughed up and sweaty and gorgeous. He knew he was gorgeous onstage, and he had a feeling Minho knew this too.

Minho did know it. He knew Jisung was gorgeous, and he wanted to dance with him. He wanted to throw himself onstage and grab Jisung’s slender waist. He wanted to launch himself into the mosh pit and ram into Jisung’s body, laughing and pushing him hard right in the chest. But Minho was paralyzed. Jisung was wild and gorgeous, and Minho was far too crossfaded to do anything about it. 

He watched wide-eyed as Jisung ripped his shirt off over his head with a feral scream and stole a blunt from someone in the audience. He watched Jisung scratching his balls, shaking sweat out of his blue hair and chanting the hook into his mic like it was a prayer. He watched Jisung dropping to his knees for Changbin to pour half a bottle of vodka into his mouth, the blue-haired rapper swaying forward with a laugh and getting a handful of his bandmate’s ass. Chan instantly blushed and tried to cover the two up, but Jisung was wild and could not be stopped. He grabbed onto Chan next, nuzzling his crotch, sucking a shockingly dark hickey into his neck once Chan had managed to coax him onto his feet. Minho cheered at this one, along with several other audience members, only fueling Jisung’s fire. Jisung was a mess in only the best way. He was an explosion, somehow contained in his delicate frame, and everyone cheered him on.

When the set was finally over, the host seemed thrilled by the audience’s energy, and only a little shocked. “Let’s hear it again for 3racha!” The room roared. People jumped and screamed and laughed. “Wow, alright guys, I guess you were worth the third mic. You all having a good time tonight?” Everyone screamed like crazy again. Minho too, raising his cup up in the air and letting the drink spill onto his hair a little. “Alright, why don't you show some of this love to the vendors down here. We got our next act up in a couple minutes so grab yourself a drink, go roll me something alright?” Everyone cheered, begging for the music to be put back on, so the host played some mix through the speakers and people were dancing again. 

Minho weaved his way through the crowd and up the stairs, in search of Jisung. Thankfully the rapper was easy to find, currently shoving his way through a crowd of people near the bathroom. “COME ON!!!” he roared, utterly absent of the sweet demeanor he had earlier, “HOW LONG ARE YOU GONNA FUCKIN BE IN THERE HUH!? WHAT DID YOU FALL ASLEEP OR SOMETHING??? IT’S A PARRTY! PEOPLE ARE DRUNNK! STOP HOGGING THE FUCKING TOILET.” Jisung pressed his back against the bathroom door and sunk halfway down it, only to stumble back onto his feet the minute Minho came into his line of sight.

“Nice show,” Minho called out, coming near. 

Jisung beamed, “You liked it?” Instantly, Jisung was gentle again. Minho nodded and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, tasting some remnants of an earlier drink.

“You looked hot up there,” he slurred. Oops. Maybe Minho had gotten too fucked up, that shouldn’t have been so easy to say. 

“Ah, I did it all for you,” Jisung’s voice was sweet, even all raw from screaming into his mic. He giggled and leaned back against the bathroom door, “Hey, do you want to come in the bathroom with me?” Jisung grabbed Minho’s hand and kissed the knuckles, half-punching himself in the face, “You can suck my dick.”

At that moment, the door swung open and Jisung fell immediately onto his back. The two girls who stumbled out stepped carelessly over his body, calling out “Hey! Great show dude that was fucking awesome,” along the way.

“Thanks!” Jisung called back and pulled Minho into the bathroom.

God, the room was spinning. Jisung drank too much. Minho drank too much. There was nothing to do tonight but keep on going. Jisung managed to pull his fly down and piss vaguely in the direction of the toilet, then turned to look at Minho, who was perched up against the sink. “You don't really have to suck my dick,” Jisung said, the stage-euphoria draining out of him again, “Company is nice too.” Jisung stroked his cock a little, but it seemed almost like an unconscious gesture, like scratching an itch before tucking it back away in his pants.

Minho couldn’t allow that, “Are you kidding me, Jisung?” He grabbed Jisung’s wrists and pulled him closer, laughing when the rapper stumbled against him, “You’re gonna drag me into the bathroom for some conversation?” Minho grabbed Jisung’s hips and hoisted him up onto the sink, leaning in on his elbows and tugging Jisung’s pants down further.

Jisung leaned back against the mirror and watched him. Minho looked immaculate against the backdrop of the bathroom’s graffitied tile wall. The man’s eyelids fluttered drunkenly, leaning in to wrap one small hand around Jisung’s cock and run his tongue over its tip. “Do you get hard when you’re performing?” Minho asked, tripping over the syllables. Jisung laughed and closed his eyes, the room spinning away under the thumping bass from downstairs.

“Yeah, sometimes.” Jisung hooked his knees over Minho’s shoulders, moaning softly as Minho slipped the head of his cock between his lips, “Especially with someone pretty like you in the audience.” Minho laughed and ran his tongue down the length of Jisung’s cock, letting his spit pool all over Jisung’s too-tight black jeans.

Minho arched over Jisung in the bathroom, feet slipping a little on the wet floor, hands running over Jisung’s soft thighs. He was too drunk, his eyes rolling and throat gurgling deeply when he gagged, only to come back in for more. Jisung’s abdomen clenched. He let his hands wander through Minho’s hair, pushing him slowly down so Jisung could force his cock up deeper into the partygoer’s throat. Minho gagged and looked up at him, snot trailing over his upper lip. Jisung liked the harsh arch of Minho’s eyebrows, with his head tilted down like this he looked like he absolutely hated Jisung. And Jisung wanted to be hated by him. Anything, as long as they got to look at eachother.

Minho’s eyes flicked over Jisung’s sweaty abdomen, deeply inhaling the smell of the rapper’s sweat. He pushed back up against Jisung’s grasp, pulling off of Jisung’s cock and letting drool trail down his chin. “God, you’re hot,” Jisung murmured, and Minho just smiled, pulling him down into a kiss. Jisung licked into his mouth desperately, and Minho let him taste the bile that had risen from the back of his throat while he was sucking Jisung off. Jisung moaned. Minho wrapped his arms around Jisung’s hips, pulling him close so they could breathe in the smell of each other’s sweat.

“You still owe me a blunt,” Minho murmured, his lips pressed against Jisung’s ear, tongue toying with the rapper’s earring. 

Jisung laughed and squeezed Minho’s ass. “You smoke swishers?”

“I’m not picky.”

“Good,” Jisung sighed as Minho’s teeth trailed down the side of his neck, the other boy’s hand wrapping around his cock, “Because I can’t roll for shit.” Minho laughed and bit down on the rapper’s skin, luxuriating in his desperate little whines. He jerked Jisung off smoothly, just enough to keep him moaning, keep him desperate for more. He let Jisung’s legs wrap around his hips, heels digging into his lower back. Jisung was a mess. Minho could taste alcohol on his stomach, smoke in his hair. Everything about him was filthy and absolutely delicious.

When someone knocked on the door from outside, it was only fair that Minho stopped. Even when Jisung whined in his ear that they should just keep going, he didn’t even cum yet, Minho dragged him off of the sink and out of the bathroom, reminding Jisung again of their deal.

The line outside of the bathroom had grown long while they were in there, and none of the people waiting gave Jisung or Minho any kind looks. Jisung flipped them all off, then stumbled Minho into the crowd of people in the living room. They found Changbin first, Jisung pushing past people with one hand gripped on Minho’s wrist and cussing out anyone who dared give him a rude look. Changbin was sitting cross-legged on a kitchen countertop near the bar, showing a crowd of highschoolers how to roll a blunt. Jisung shoved his way through.

“CHANGBIN!!!” he called, only earning himself a brief glance from the other rapper.

“How was the bathroom?” Changbin droned, lifting the blunt to his mouth and sealing it.

“Good. Where’s my shit?”

“Chan has it.” 

Jisung rolled his eyes, letting out an incredibly loud whine, “Can we just smoke whatever you’re rolling?” Only for Changbin to laugh and respond sharply,

“Fuck no. Go find him, he’s downstairs.”

So Minho was whisked off again, laughing and stumbling as Jisung grabbed him by the waist and piloted him through the crowds. They shoved their way downstairs, where they found Chan dancing and getting a little too handsy with some girl. Jisung shoved his way between them, grabbing the fanny pack which Chan had slung over one shoulder. “JISUNGGG! HEY!” Chan shouted over the thumping bass. He looked from Minho to Jisung and back again, a dumb smile stretching across his face, “DID YOU GUYS....Y’KNOW...DID YOU UHH....HAHAHA DON'T MAKE ME SAY IT.” Even as Chan floundered for words, he kept dancing, grinning wildly.

“Yeah, I sucked his dick,” Minho slurred, then laughed at his own words. Chan gave him an overeager high-five, and they were off again, pushing through crowds and out the front door. 

Even the humid summer air was a relief.

Outside, they plopped down on the curbside between two parked cars, and Jisung unloaded his supplies. Before long, Minho was leaning against Jisung’s side, and Jisung was rolling them a messy blunt, overstuffed and cracking between his fingertips. “Fuuuck,” he murmured, his voice a long, heavy drawl, “I’m so bad at this, dude.” Minho laughed and encouraged him until finally, there it was. Curving like a banana, with two holes they had to keep shut with their fingers, the blunt was complete. Jisung moved slow under the weight of his own drunkenness, but he was quick to pass the blunt off on Minho. “You light it, I’m sick of messing with this thing.” Minho laughed and followed Jisung’s command. 

It tasted terrible. The weed was fine but clearly the leaf had been treated with some acrid-tasting sweetness that ripped through Minho’s sinuses. “Jesus Christ,” Minho coughed, “What is that?”

“It’s Tropical Freeze.” Jisung tossed the words out like they were nothing. Minho jutted his neck out, blinked, and furrowed his brow.

“Tropical What?”

“Tropical Freeze? Here.” Jisung fished in the bag again and pulled out a little plastic pack with the flavor Tropical Freeze (whatever that meant) broadcasted in bright yellow letters against a glaring cerulean background. Minho had never imagined someone buying such a flavor, but then again, here was Jisung: with blue hair matted to his forehead, and one crooked tooth poking against his lips, Jisung was the perfect customer for Tropical Freeze.

Minho grabbed him by the hair and kissed him, pulling Jisung stumbling into his lap. “You’re so fucking gross,” Minho spat, and Jisung giggled, taking a hit and blowing it in Minho’s face, but Minho’s fire could not be extinguished. “Are you still hard?” he asked, dragging Jisung closer on his lap.

Jisung was. He had been since the bathroom, especially now that he was in Minho’s lap, kissing him between pulls. He sucked on Minho’s neck and let Minho’s hands worm their way between them, squeezing him over his pants. Soon enough, Minho’s back was flat against the pavement and he was looking up at Jisung with this easy, red-eyed smile. He held the blunt in one hand, while the other one ran over the front of Jisung’s tight jeans, making him whimper and squirm. Minho’s confidence had been growing, and by now he had Jisung in the palm of his hand.

“I’m so glad I met you tonight,” he slurred, smoke rising from his lips on the words. Jisung, who was usually such a wild mess of energy, fell silent and smiled back. Behind Jisung’s head, Minho could see the moon looming on the horizon and a rat skittering along the gutter. Behind Minho’s, Jisung found a cigarette butt and a pancake of old chewing gum, the pattern of someone’s tread still legible. He laughed and ground down against Minho’s palm, and just as soon as they had begun to appreciate this moment alone, it was over.

“HEY!” Changbin’s nasal voice cut the tension, one of his shoes landing firmly in Jisung's ribs. Jisung looked up to find his two bandmates looming over them. Chan looked more embarrassed than should have ever been possible. He was currently standing with his hands stiffly at his sides, his eyes giving the occasional uncomfortable wiggle to Jisung, then Minho, then back to search the skyline again. 

“WHAT!” Jisung shouted back, furious, still grinding against the palm of Minho’s hand absentmindedly.

“Stop sucking face, we’re getting naan pizza.” Instantly, Jisung’s anger evaporated. His wild, red eyes met Minho’s, and he smiled.

“Naan pizzaaa,” he droned, “You wanna come?”

A wave of hunger ripped mercilessly through Minho’s body. “God yes,” he responded, holding up the blunt, “Let’s finish this on the way.”

The walk away from the party was like a walk through syrup. The music dropped down behind Minho as he strolled, Jisung gripping his hand in one sweaty fist. Chan filled the air with nervous conversation: “So haha you guys really hit it off, huh, that’s fucking sick dude, y’know I think that’s just like really cool, you know and you’re like, so chill, Minho, yknow I don't want to be like offensive or whatever but I was surprised you really like didn’t seem that, like...you know.”

“Gay?” Minho offered.

“Yeah.” 

Chan’s admission was met with a solid minute of tense silence, during which Chan blushed deeply and stammered over the beginning of a word until Minho erupted into wild high-pitched laughter. He stumbled and dropped a roach behind him, kissing Jisung’s cheek and then laughing against his shoulder.

Minho was way too high to talk to the guy running the corner store they ended up at. It seemed to be a mysterious blend of indian food and italian food, and Minho couldn’t stop laughing at the concept. He was only able to finally shut himself up when he had a mouthful of naan pizza, grease running down his chin as he leaned into Jisung’s side. Jisung smelled like sweat and alcohol, guzzling a sprite for what must have been 2 minutes straight, Adam's apple bobbing. Minho watched him fondly.

Naan pizza was an unexpected and, ultimately, unimpressive combination, but right now Minho didn’t care. Right now it was the most delicious thing in the world. The blunt they had smoked together was hitting hard, just another translucent layer on hs already muddled thinking, and he wanted to fuck Jisung against the sticky vinyl booth. Or maybe he wanted Jisung to fuck him. He would be more than happy either way.

“I want to go home with you,” Minho groaned, pressing his greasy lips to Jisung’s neck and leaving an orange stain. Jisung had an enchanting smile, even now, blinking drunkenly.

“Yeah?” Jisung fed Minho a bite of pizza, “Let’s go home together then.” Jisung glanced around the shop, smiled, and leaned into Minho’s ear, whispering, “I want to make Chan so uncomfortable he stays up all night.” Minho laughed, nearly choking on a greasy mouthful of pizza.

They crammed three to a seat in the back of the Uber home, Chan in the front seat making quiet conversation. Minho and Jisung didn’t kiss, but their hands were all over each other, giggling quietly. Jisung grabbed Minho’s thigh and Minho squeaked, twisting Jisung’s nipple in retaliation. The backs of their heads were flat against their headrests and their hearts beat wild and out of control.

Minho didn’t remember them climbing the stairs to the three boys’ fourth floor apartment. He barely remembered tumbling their way through a kitchen, past a bathroom Jisung only barely pointed out, and to Jisung’s room. Minho smiled watching Jisung lock the door and flip on a strip of glaring blue LEDs. He chewed his bottom lip and rested his head on the doorframe, watching Jisung strip down to his underwear. Jisung stumbled and laughed, tripping over his skinny jeans, and shouted drunkenly: “YOUR TURN.”

And Minho stripping was a sight Jisung wanted to remember forever. Minho was drunk as fuck, but there was an elegance about him. The way he shoved off the wall without tumbling over forwards. The way he licked his lips, smiled, and peeled his shirt off over his head. Minho’s torso was soft in all the right places, his shoulders and forearms visibly strong under it all. Jisung watched them flex as Minho stepped out of his pants and, within a few strides, was putting two hands on Jisung’s chest and shoving him back onto the bed.

“You didn’t make your bed for me?” Minho commented, and Jisung grinned,

“I didn’t think I’d be having company.”

“Unbelievable.”

Minho shoved Jisung’s wrists back against the mattress, ground down against him, and kissed him deeply. After a night of aborted half-private moments, this moment was pure magic. Jisung on stage was an explosion of confidence and lust, but Jisung in his bedroom was beautiful in a whole different way. In his bedroom, Jisung was clumsy. His lips didn’t match up quite right with Minho’s, his sweaty wrists twisting and slipping out from under Minho’s grasp. Minho took a deep breath of Jisung’s musty room, their sweat thickening the air, and let out a quiet grunt. Jisung mimicked him, grunting a little louder, until they both were cackling and moaning so loud Changbin banged on the wall and told them to shut up.

They didn’t have the energy for anything fancy tonight. They were drunk and exhausted, but their adrenaline carried them pretty far nonetheless. Jisung’s hands shoved their way into Minho’s underwear, and Minho ground down into his palms, Jisung’s fingers scouting out the little dips below his hip bones and the hair between his legs. Minho kissed Jisung’s neck and bit him hard, sweat slipping beneath his lips. Jisung moaned and arched his back and let Minho climb into his lap.

“Whereyourcondoms?” Minho slurred, his eyelids fluttering. Jisung threw a lazy hand in the direction of his bedside table, which Minho mustered the coordination to ruffle through. A vibrator, a small jar of weed, some rolling papers and loose pens and pencils, and a pack of condoms buried at the back of the drawer. “Been a while?” Minho asked, pulling one out and climbing back across the squeaky bed.

Jisung grinned, “Noneyourbusiness.”

In the blue light, Jisung’s eyes were electric. They flashed as Minho gripped Jisung’s cock and jerked it quickly, before rolling on the condom. Minho stared at Jisung’s dick as he did it, blue and alien in his fist. It was a good size. Minho wanted it inside of him. Minho wanted a lot right now. He slid forward on his knees, mounting Jisung and positioning his cock between his legs. It took a few tries, Jisung’s sweaty hands tightening on his hips, but eventually the tip of Jisung’s cock pushed inside of Minho’s hole, stretching him out. Minho grunted, his thighs shaking a little as he lowered himself further. Further, until his hips were flush with Jisung’s and the rapper’s full length was inside of him.

“Fuck,” Minho breathed.

“Fuck,” Jisung exhaled.

Minho’s thighs shook when he lifted himself up again and, drunkenly, he laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh, but it sounded like one, and Jisung squirmed a little in response. Minho’s blue teeth shined when he smiled, and his blue hands pressed Jisung’s shoulders back into the mattress. They found a rhythm. Jisung and Minho alternated occasionally as one grew tired, Minho slumping against Jisung’s chest so Jisung could piston up into him and shake curses from his throat, then Jisung falling limp onto the mattress and watching Minho bounce on top of him with a feverish energy. It had been a whole night of foreplay. They were wild for each other now.

The room was hot and blue and hazy, and Minho smelled the smoke in Jisung’s hair as he kissed sloppily along his temple, then his jaw, then his lips. Jisung moaned and flipped them, and Minho giggled.

Jisung sucked hickeys in Minho’s neck which were dark already, but looked black under the blue LEDs. Minho groaned. His nails scratched long grooves into Jisung’s back, desperate to hear a whimper out of Jisung as the rapper pinned him in and fucked him so hard his body scooted backwards up the bed. They couldn’t manage words right now, just groans and bed springs squeaking, Jisung’s cheap bed frame smacking against the wall.

When they came, it was like glass shattered behind their eyelids and all they could do was keep kissing desperately, tasting the salt on each other’s lips.

Minho’s hands slid slowly down Jisung’s sweaty back, feeling every little follicle, every blemish and fading acne scar. He let his head rest on Jisung’s stained pillow, the rapper’s weight heavy and breathing on top of him. He was sticky everywhere, and his head pounded, but he smiled nonetheless. Jisung smelled like a teenager’s armpit and some ugly cologne.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Jisung slurred, and Minho laughed.

“Me neither.” He wrapped his arms around Jisung’s torso and rolled them both onto their side, “My head hurts.”

“Me too.”

Jisung laughed and kissed Minho again and again, rolling away only to unplug the LEDs and wrap all his limbs around Minho. As drunk as they were, the line between kissing and sleeping seemed to blur away to darkness.

-

In the middle of the night, Jisung awoke with a headache. He never slept right when he got this drunk. Jisung shivered, groaning softly, and Minho held him tight. They exchanged quiet conversation and later, passed a glass of water between the two of them in the middle of the night. Jisung’s dry lips left a ring on the edge of the glass.


End file.
